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The basket of black tee-shirts hit the floor of the laundry room like a plastic and cotton meteor. Terezi wipes her forehead, lamenting the fact that she went so long without doing laundry. There's gotta be what... fifty tee-shirts in that pile? And it's a long walk. That's a lot of work to haul it from her room and back. Well, whatever. She's here now.
Her finger goes to the washing machine's knob and clicks it over to 'hot'. The machine says you're only supposed to use hot for whites but let's be honest who on this meteor even has white? The closest thing is like... Vriska's dark grey shirt. And besides 'hot' equates to 'clean'. Colors be damned. Cold isn't going to sterilize anything.
She scoops up an armful of tee shirts and drops them into the machine. It's a pretty nice one. A lot of machines have a that bladed pillar in the middle that rudely pummels clothes into cleanliness like an efficient prison system. But this is the type without one, that gently massages the clothes until they're fit to wear. You know, more like Nordic prison system. And like a blue, soap filled cherry on top, Terezi tosses in a plastic detergent puck onto the pile of the shirts.
Now for the fabric softener. There's pretty much no way she's going to deal with scratchy, stiff clothes. She needs her clothes the opposite of how she needs her justice. Which is to say, soft. Terezi reaches down into the bottom of her basket and oh shit. Nothing. Her fingers hit plastic. But not the plastic of a fabric softener bottle. Just the lame kind at the bottom of the basket. She'd forgotten the fabric softener.
This is bad. Terezi is in no mood to walk all the way back to her room and get her bottle. And even worse, the wash cycle's already started. The generous basin capacity of the machine is a good third filled with steamy water already. She needs a plan. She needs... there! Got one.
On the shelf above the dryer is a bottle of fabric softener. But there's a catch. It's labeled 'Vriska's fa8ric softner. DO NOT TOUCH!!!!!!!!'. But Terezi doesn't have a choice. She'll just... water it down later. The bottle looks full, there's no way Vriska is going to know.
She grabs the bottle by the cap, and all hell breaks loose. Of course Vriska didn't screw it on all the way. Without the cap actually on, Terezi manages to spill the bottle and sling milky-teal mountain fresh smelling liquid all over the shelf and dryer.
Oh shit. Oh Fuck. Oh damn. This is bad. No there's no way Vriska won't know something happened to her softener, even if Terezi watered it down. That thing's totally empty. The first damage control act Terezi does is scoop up what she can in the cap, and throw it in the wash. There. At least her shirts are going to be fine.
Next, she pulls a wet shirt from the pile in the machine and mops up all the excess liquid. Then she rinses it in the sink, and tosses it back in with the rest of her clothes. Okay. Good. The mess is clean, and she has her laundry all set. But the bottle is still empty. That's the big problem. She'd fill it with her own softener, but hers is blue. And walking back to get it is still dreadfully unappealing.
Terezi grinds her teeth together. There's got to be a way to get out of this. Just gotta think. Well, it was sort of a white-green. Maybe she could put some milk in it? No, wait. Vriska never does laundry. It'll spoil by then and she'll be pouring sour yogurt on her laundry. And it still won't be the proper shade of green.
What else looks like that? The only thing she can think of is... oh. FUCK no. That's gross. Next idea.
Next idea... and she's got nothing. Terezi spends a good five minutes standing there thinking, the room silent except for the cacophony of the washing machine. Her mind plucks the threads of destiny, trying to wring a solution out from the eldritch insubstantia of the hereafter. And the only solution she can get is the gross one.
It needs to happen though. If she doesn't, her mind can trace the paths of the future into another endless cycle of revenge that doesn't end well for either of them.
Welp. Guess she's stuck with this. Terezi unbuttons the top of her jeans, and after a disagreement with the fly, wiggles out of them. Next step, she tugs off her red boyshorts and kicks them over with her jeans. She likes that pair because it makes her ass look even more choipce than usual. Or so she's been told. She'd blind, remember?
All right. Onto to step three. This one is the easiest and hardest step. She gently rubs in between her legs, until she can coax her tentabulge out from its octosheath. It... doesn't take as long as she thought. Maybe it's the thrill provided by the slim chance of being discovered. Or maybe it's a certain sick, black satisfaction in what she's about to do to Vriska, and her next twenty or so loads of laundry.
And just like that the tip of her tentacock is curling around her eagerly awaiting fingers and already in the process of dripping transparent goop onto the floor. She wraps a second hand around its base, and softly squeezes and kneads it like she has a tube of toothpaste and is stringently adhering to the manufacture's advice to 'squeeze the tube from the top'.
Now it's fully emerged and flailing just a little bit. It's wily enough right now to really break someone's nose if they were dumb enough to get it near their face. Luckily Terezi is smart and only uses her hands. She starts to really work the suction cups with her fingers. She takes a few steps closer to the washing machine, bracing her butt against it.
She's really got that tentacle flipping now. She shifts a little, and the calamari cock clangs to the side of the washer and the cups go to work making it stick. While it's stretched out and touching the wonderfully warm metal, Terezi attacks it with her hand. She massages and strokes it until...
That was fast. Quickly, she peels it off the side of the washer with a series of pops. Then she grabs the tip, and squats over the empty bottle of fabric softener. She wrestles that crazy cockhead into submission and presses it against the bottle's spout just in time to unleash a deluge of reproductive fluids into the bottle.
It's almost the exact same milky-teal as Vriska's fabric softener was. She grins her manic grin. This is working perfectly. There's a little overflow but that's nothing pouring it in the sink can't take care of.
A little bit got on her finger. She raises it to her lips, and her tongue darts out to taste it. No, it's not mountain fresh. But it'll do. It'll do.
***
Vriska stumbles into the breakfast nook at half past whatever time it is on the meteor. Terezi is busy finishing off a bowl of cereal.
"8luuuuuuuuh." says Vriska, as she scratches her stomach.
Terezi smiles. "WH4T'S WRONG, SP1D3RG1RL?"
"I tried out this new fa8ric softner, 8ut instead of making my clothes soft, it made them crusty! How shitty is that????????"
"H4H4H4H4H4H4" Terezi replies, trying not to spray cereal everywhere.
Vriska just frowns, scratches, and goes to find breakfast.